


Five Times Clint Missed and One Time He Didn't

by MusingWordsmith



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Gen, Pre-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 04:20:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1414906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusingWordsmith/pseuds/MusingWordsmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint Barton never missed his target. That wasn't bragging, that was fact. There were days, however, in which his aim wasn't what it is today. Days in which he had, in fact, missed his target.</p><p>Five Times Clint Missed, and One Time Hit Exactly Where He Meant To</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Clint Missed and One Time He Didn't

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AisforAwkward](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=AisforAwkward).



  
5.  
  
It's Saturday. I got my new ball from Daddy ‘n my hand, goin’ downstairs to find him. He said we’d go to the park an’ play ball ‘n Saturday with me an’ Barney. I been waitin’ all week, an’ it’s finally time!  
  
“Dad!” I holler, banging into the den. “Dad ‘s Saturday!”  
  
He’s layin’ on the couch, one arm thrown over his eyes an’ the other hangin’ down off the side, holdin’ a bottle of whiskey. I ignore all that, startin’ to shake him an’ tryin’ to get him up. “C’mon Dad! Let’s go!”  
  
He says some of those words Barney tol’ me not to repeat, jerkin’ up to a sittin’ position. Usually I’d run an’ hide at this point, but he’d  _promised_.  
  
“Leave me alone you little brat!” Dad bellows, an’ I jump back, scared now. He’s _mad_.  
  
“You promised to play t’day,” I whisper quietly, hopin’ that he won’t be breakin’ another promise.  
  
“Well I changed my mind!” he shouts back.  
  
I flinch, backin’ up more so’s he’ll havta get up to get me. Guess it wasn’t worth it ‘cause he flops back down on the couch, goin’ back to the position he was in when I came in.  
  
I rub my eyes, tryin’ to keep from cryin’. He’d promised to play with me.  _Promised_. As I watch he lifts up the bottle and takes a swig outta it. My fist tightens around the ball in my hand, an’ I get mad. It’s ‘cause of that stuff he don’t play with me. Too busy drinkin’ it to bother with me. He likes it better than he likes me!  
  
His arm drops back down, bottle hanging limply from his loose fingers.  
  
I throw my ball at it.  
  
It hits the floor close by an’ rolls under the couch, not even touching it. Dad don’t even notice.  
  
I run to my room an’ cry.

  
  
4.  
  
It’s hot out; I’m sweaty and stink to high heaven. I don’t notice it much though, ‘cause Trickshot’s givin’ me my first archery lesson.  
  
I’m tryin’ to keep my excitement down, Trickshot ain’t known for his even temper and I don’t wanna make him change his mind ‘bout teachin’ me. His has always been my favorite act, though anything would be better than shovelin’ animal poop.  
  
“Gotta nock it just above where your fingers go,” he explains. “Just your pointer and middle finger, and push the bow out, not pull the string in.” He shows me how, and I pay close attention, copyin’ him best I can once he tells me to.  
  
“Now, try to hit the target,” he says, noddin’ at the straw dummy set up a few yards away.  
  
I aim carefully, sightin’ down my arrow at the dummy’s head. I carefully slide my fingers off the string . . . and yelp as I do it too slow and it snaps forwards sooner than I thought it would, catching on my arm guard and sending my arrow burrowing into the soil.  
  
Trickshot guffaws, “Nice try kid, but maybe next time you could actually get it closer to the target huh?”  
  
I clench my fists, one still around the bow, and try not to glower at him. I’ll get better, he’ll see. I’ll get good enough to take over his act and be the star attraction.  
  
In fact, I’ll become the best shot in the world!

  
  
3.  
  
We’re in a bank, me, Barney and Buck. It’s in some rinky-dink small town in the middle of nowhere, and ain’t got many folks in it ‘cept us and the bankers. The ones holdin’ their hands up and starin’ at us, scared.  
  
See, Barney’s got a gun, and me and Buck’s got our bows. We’re holding it up.  
  
I’ve got my bow trained on the bank folk and the couple customers that was in there as well. Barney an’ Buck are takin’ care of scarin’ the money out of the boss, since Buck’s done this before and Barney . . . well; Barney’s got a talent for scarin’ people.  
  
My heart’s poundin’ and my hands are slick with sweat, it’s only instinct keepin’ ‘em still at this point. Till now, I managed to mostly stay on the right side of the law. Sure, I wasn’t old enough to be doin’ what I was doin’ at the circus, but that don’t count. This, this is big.  
  
“Hurry up!” barks Barney at the manager, loud enough to startle me, just a little. I sneak a peek to see how things are going. Barney’s tense, clenching his jaw and grippin’ his gun tight. I hope he doesn’t accidentally shoot the big boss; he’s cooperating and opening the safe for us.  
  
I glance back in time to see someone edging towards the door. “Don’t,” I say, switchin’ my aim towards her. She stops, meets my eyes for the barest moment, and bolts.  
  
Instinct guides my aim as I let fly an arrow at her as she jerks open the door, yellin’ about how the banks bein’ robbed. Barney cusses at me and Buck gives me a look that promises pain for my slip up. We don’t bother hangin’ out there anymore, Barney grabs a handful of cash out of a drawer and we bolt out the door.  
  
Only thing left behind is my arrow, stickin’ out the doorframe where it landed.

  
  
2.  
  
Sighting down a barrel at a perfect stranger has become a common event in my life. Sometimes I know what he does and how it’s made some powerful folks mad, other times not. It don’t matter much to me though, I’m just the hired gun. The guy that hangs out and pulls the trigger on whoever it is someone has decided needed to die.  
  
This guy is some bigwig senator. From what I’ve been told, he’s been pushin’ for some bill to go through that’ll muck up some operations for my contractors. Frankly I don’t care much either way. I’ve got a job to do, and I’m going to do it.  
  
I let out a slow, measured breath as I aim. Not at him, the distance is too far and the wind too strong for that. Above, and to the right some ways, I know how my gun shoots and I know how the bullet will change course. Another breath, a gentle squeeze of the trigger and—  
  
Just as it fires I feel a bullet slam into the wall beside me. I start, enough so that my shot goes wild, missing my target entirely. Well, that’s good; I’ve failed my contract and have someone holding a gun on me as well.  
  
“Hands away from the rifle please,” a voice says, deceptively calm. I comply, licking my lips nervously. “Kneel, hands behind your head.”   
  
I slowly ease up as I was told. “You gonna kill me?” I ask, trying for a light tone. “Cause I got some friends that might take offense to that.”  
  
“Oh I doubt that,” he says, right before he tazes me.  
  
I have one last thought before blacking out:  _I really need to re-think my lifestyle._

  
  
1.  
  
The Strategic Homeland Intervention and Enforcement Logistics Division is awesome!  
  
(Bit of a mouthful to say though, if you ask me.)  
  
I mean, I’ve been here for going months now, but they’ve just cleared me as an agent after all the I’m-not-a-spy-and/or-gonna-go-darkside-again stuff. I mean, seriously, I get to shoot stuff, with my bow, with arrows that explode. Classy! Plus, they gave me a pardon for all the stuff I got into before, so now I’m a Good Guy.  
  
Boy, that’s probably the hardest thing to get used to.  
  
Anyway, I’m down at the firing range, just shooting my bow with the regular arrows. It’s relaxing, a nice break from all the hubbub of getting me settled in. At least, until I notice a crowd beginning to gather.  
  
First it’s mostly younger agents, but some older start gathering as well. I never could resist showing off, so the next thing you know I’m shooting various objects they’ve thrown into the air and doing some of my old circus tricks.  
  
“How do you do that?” gushes a young female agent after I hit a dime someone threw for me.  
  
I smirk and wink at her, “Think that’s something? Watch this!”  
  
I don’t even look at the target as I am my bow backwards and release. I can hear the thunk of it striking it’s mark and I stand there, grinning and waiting for the applause.  
  
It never comes. Instead, I hear snorts, snickers, even a few giggles from the junior agents, and some of the seniors are even suppressing a smile. I turn around to see why, and find out. I had missed.  
  
I had missed! Me, Clint Barton, the Amazing Hawkeye, had missed the target! I never missed!  
  
“How—?” I start to say, before being interrupted.  
  
“Not looking at where you’re shooting can affect your aim,” someone I had been sincerely hoping hadn’t seen that said.  
  
My handler, Agent Coulson; AKA: tazer guy. This is embarrassing.  
  


  
+1.  
  
The night is dark, with a definite nip in the air. Waiting in the shadows is the Black Widow. She waits for her informant to come and tell her who follows her.  
  
Her tail is good; she hasn’t managed to get a good look at them. Yet. She will, and she will add their bloodstains to the many on her hands.  
  
A pang of regret, she wishes she didn’t have to do this. But this is what she must do to stay alive, and out of the hands of her previous employers.  
  
A soft noise, up above. Red hair whips around as she faces it, gun drawn.   
  
 _Ssssssssss thunk_. An arrow lands, mere inches away from her head. She flinches away automatically, but does not fire. Arrows, only one person worth note uses those if given a choice. He doesn’t miss.  
  
A note is tied to the shaft. Cautiously, she unties it, and holds the tiny scrap of paper in a beam of moonlight filtering through a window. It only holds three words.  
  
 _Wanna way out?_

**Author's Note:**

> I am not completely happy with this, quite a few things bug me about it. But I don't seem to be getting around to editing it, so I'm just posting it without major edits.


End file.
